


From Me To You

by FoxoftheDesert



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alex also being happy!, Alex being angsty!, F/F, Kara and Alex are great moms, Kara being thoughtful and her usual precious self, Relationship between foster siblings, Shameless Kalex, Warning for sparse dialogue and sentimentality!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7816882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxoftheDesert/pseuds/FoxoftheDesert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of her daughter's 18th birthday, Kara reflects on how she got to this moment and then writes a letter to deal with her feelings about her baby being all grown up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Me To You

**Author's Note:**

> After reading an incredible little fic about the toll Alex's life is taking on her body and her insecurity about how Kara will relate to her in the future I needed some positive feels. This was the result. I make no apologies for the sentimentality!
> 
> *11/2/2016: Edited for spelling errors and some sloppy sentence structure*

I sit down at the desk in our little office, immediately at ease in the familiar surroundings. Upon the wall to my left hang the many degrees belonging to one of three members of my family, proud displays of her impressive achievements, while before me I am greeted by a number of artfully arranged photographs of us, some formal and some informal, but all having captured precious memories. Books line the shelves along the other two walls, lending a studious atmosphere to the room. Almost all of said tomes have been read, though mostly not by me. On occasion, my job as a reporter for CatCo will require me to delve into such daunting subjects as biology, psychology, and military history, but only for the purpose of research. Admittedly, I am not the academic of the house.

 

Warmth settles into my bones, and a smile forms on my face as I pull out a sheet of paper and place it before me. Pen in hand, I gaze down at the blank page, wistfully tugging at my bottom lip with my teeth as I ponder what to write. Whatever I decide to say, it must be perfect.

 

My name is Kara Danvers. The world knows me as Supergirl, but right now I am simply a mother trying to come to grips with one of the most difficult adjustments of my life. You see, today is the last day before my little girl leaves home for college, and I have determined to compose a letter to her imparting what wisdom I can to prepare her for what lies ahead while also ensuring she understands just how much I love her. In my heart I know that she knows I do, but I still feel compelled to put my feelings down on paper. Maybe it’s the journalist in me. Maybe it’s the mother. Maybe it’s both.

 

When I think about what will happen on the morrow, I can hardly wrap my brain around the fact my baby girl is old enough to be heading off to college. The reality, however, is undeniable. While the rising of the sun will usher in the day my wife and I fly with her to Connecticut to see that she settles in, it will announce the dawn of her eighteenth birthday. Were just one of those two facts avoidable, perhaps I could deceive myself that it is possible to keep her with me for a while longer. I want to. I’d keep her forever if I could, but the sad realities slapping me in the face stand as a compound testament to my pending loss.

 

To say that those two events coinciding is overwhelming for me presents an understatement of epic proportions. Considering that my only child is about to move away across the country, I’m not quite sure how I’m able to think straight at the moment. And yet I am. Despite the temptation to crawl headlong into willful delusion, my head is crystal clear and my heart is full of purpose. I know what I need to say, and while I am handling this as well as can be expected, it is incredibly hard. Maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever faced.

 

Quite contrary to my desire to process this time of upheaval as a couple, Alex – my wife – has been avoiding all discussion on this topic of late. The toll being exacted by this monumental change in our lives and her stubborn determination to isolate herself from me is apparent. Some of Alex’s disquiet is like mine – that is, a simple loathing to surrender the idea of mothering our daughter forever. But Alex seems to be struggling more than I am to reconcile herself to reality as if she feels the loss more keenly or is purposefully torturing herself. I wonder at times if this isn’t because she’s the one who carried our daughter and then gave birth to her. Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn’t, but there is no denying that Alex is not coping well.

 

Some of Alex’s turmoil is obviously linked to her own childhood. When Alex got pregnant, she worried endlessly about what kind of a mother she would be, even going so far as to swear to me that she would not repeat her mother’s mistakes. I told her she was being silly, that Eliza was for all intents and purposes a good Mom who did the best she could, but Alex wouldn’t have it. It was the first time in years she dwelt so feverishly upon her past estrangement with her mother. To be fair, I should have known better than to minimize what she was feeling, especially about that particularly sensitive subject, but I couldn’t help myself. At the time I felt as if I needed to defend Eliza and Alex as equally as was feasible in order to preserve their recently mended relationship. Still, I sympathized with Alex’s anxieties.

 

After her dad ‘died’, Alex was saddled with unreasonable expectations and then chastised when she inevitably failed to live up to those lofty goals. While I have come to understand why Eliza pushed Alex so hard, the unfair treatment left Alex feeling insufficient, as if nothing she did was ever good enough. That insecurity is something I have had to battle many times during the course of our marriage. To this day, Alex does not believe herself to be ‘worthy’ of me, even though I firmly believe the truth to be the inverse.

 

No matter how deficient Alex thought herself to be during her worst moments, I never once entertained the concept that she could be anything less than an amazing mother. Of all the people I have met in my life, none have impacted me in the way Alex has, and so much for the better at that. I would wager to say that Alex’s influence on the woman I became surpasses that of my own parents who were, I think, objectively superior even by lofty Kryptonian standards. Yet as much as I acknowledge that my mother and father loved me as best they could in the stoic way our people conducted relationships, it was not them who taught me how to love with reckless abandon; and although I know they wanted what was best for me, they were not the ones to inspire me to want it, too. Alex was the one who did those things for me and yet she doesn’t see how incredible she is. I guess in a way that is good for me, though, if only because I get to be the one to tell her and show her just how wonderful she is every single day.

 

Although Alex often expresses doubt as to whether or not she’s been the kind of mother she set out to be, that doubt is ultimately unfounded. I honestly don’t think it hyperbole in believing it impossible for our daughter to have a better mother than Alex – a sentiment that never fails to bring a bashful but proud blush to Alex’s cheeks. It’s true, though. I can assert that opinion with authority because I was there.

 

I was there when Alex went into labor and held her hand as she fought like hell through labor pains so severe that they reduced the strongest person I’ve ever met to tears. Giving birth to a half-Kryptonian as a human was so stressful on her body that after she brought our baby into the world, she was too exhausted to even lift her head. And yet she made me help her sit up so she could hold our newborn baby girl in her arms. In the moments that followed, I got to watch three hours of excruciating agony be washed away in an instant by the wiggling of little fingers and the awed gaze of huge blue eyes meeting the fathomless browns of the woman who gave her life.

 

And it didn’t stop there in the delivery room. For the past eighteen years, I have been an eyewitness to Alex being a supermom as she deftly juggled her ever-increasing responsibilities at the DEO with PTA meetings and bake sales, and with explaining physics and chemistry and calculus with a patience and passion for science that inspired our daughter to develop a love for it as well. If that was not enough evidence, I could go on and on about the way Alex cheered like a madwoman from the stands at countless soccer games and never missed a school event she’d promised to attend. I may be biased, but to me Alex is the best Mom I know, and I tell her that all the time.

 

Still, even with my reassurances there are times Alex struggles. This is one of those times. She’s been up of a night more times these past weeks than I’m comfortable with, often sequestering herself in this very room to cry. She thinks she’s hiding her pain but she’s not. I can see it in her eyes during the day in spite of her inscrutable masks and false smiles. At night when she’s restless, I sense her movements in my sleep so that I’m always alert enough to both hear and feel her leave our bed and then tiptoe out of the room towards the study down the hallway. Not long after, the shuddering hiccups and muffled sniffles will begin, and I know my night’s sleep is over.

 

Lying awake all night while paralyzed by warring desires has become a regular occurrence for me since the summer started winding down. Each night, I stare at the ceiling with my chest aching from how much grief I can hear in Alex’s subdued weeping, but I do not move. Sometimes it’s hard to even breathe for want to comfort her. It gets so bad at times that my fingers and toes tingle with anticipation. I never give in, though. Alex values her privacy and I have always respected that, so I let my wife work through her turmoil alone. Besides, I know that she’ll come to me when she’s ready. She always does.

 

For my part, I’ve been more open about the upcoming separation from our only child. I’ve been expecting it for years. As the product of a Kryptonian – a species more highly evolved than human beings, which is a statement not intended to be boastful – and a human mother who is a certified genius, our daughter was bound to be of an intelligence level far surpassing her peers. It came as no surprise to either of her parents that she was accepted into both Stanford and Yale at 16.

 

What did surprise us was her decision to stay in high school so that she could graduate with her class. Like Alex, she excelled beyond my expectations at social interactions, easily forming friendships that have lasted over a decade as she effortlessly maintained her status as most popular girl on campus. My daughter’s teachers never fail to sing her praises and her many friends think she hung the moon.

 

That my daughter is so gregarious has been an immense source of relief for me. I had expected her to be as I was: awkward and socially stunted due to her heightened senses and superhuman abilities. I didn’t make many friends in school. I was shy and timid for good reason. I can see now, though, that my own negative experiences transitioning to a life on earth colored my expectations of my child. It shames me that I worried so much about her being like me, but I have seldom been more glad to be proven wrong.

 

But in keeping with her similarity to Alex, our daughter is an insatiable addict of knowledge, studious and scientifically inclined. Never one to take the easy route, she has taken the most difficult courses available to her at the prestigious private school we enrolled her in and passed them all with enviable ease. I’d thought she would jump at the opportunity to head to college early, but she declined out that deep, abiding sense of honor and loyalty she inherited from us both. While I could tell her choice bothered Alex a bit, I was so proud of her that I could burst, and eventually Alex came to feel the same way when she realized our daughter was merely following in her footsteps. Alex gave up so much for me, which is one of the many reasons I love her more than life itself.

 

I often mill about the loft, looking at pictures of our family life and recounting them to Alex as I get lost in the nostalgia of priceless memories. That I will miss our daughter more than I can adequately explain is something I make no attempts to hide. I want Alex to know how proud I am of the young woman our daughter has become and that I trust her to take care of herself because she was raised to be strong, independent, self-sufficient, and wise – instruction I know she took to heart through years of watching her be amazing. Yet at the same time she is still that teetering little tater-tot who would beam at me with a wide, toothless grin as she charged headlong into my waiting arms. I suppose that perception of my daughter will never truly change. She’ll always be my baby.

 

And now my baby is going to college on the other side of the country. Three thousand miles is so far away on paper. Sure, I can fly there faster than any jet, but that doesn’t change the fact that for the first time since she was born I will have to adjust to sleeping in a house without being able to detect my daughter’s palpable presence just down the hall. When I wake up at night having been subconsciously startled by a sound in the neighborhood surrounding our spacious loft, I will no longer be comforted back to sleep by the steady sound of her breathing. It will just be Alex and me again, and while Alex always has been and always will be enough for me, I still cannot escape the fact that our baby isn’t even gone yet and the house already feels so empty. How will I ever make it through the next few days and weeks without falling to pieces?

 

People assume because I’m Supergirl I’m the strong one in my marriage, but it’s not so cut and dried as that. To me Alex is the stronger of us and always has been. I’m by no means weak, of course – a life filled with catastrophic loss has tempered me, made me tough in a way the rigid systems of Krypton never could. When I landed on earth, I had a misconception that humans would be less resilient than I due to their fragile, capricious nature, but meeting Alex changed all that. Alex taught me so much about handling adversity with dignity. She refused to allow me to wilt under the harsh glares and cruel words of my classmates as she fearlessly championed for me at the expense of her own prominent notoriety.

 

Alex is so strong, but sometimes she still hasn’t grasped that she doesn’t have to be. More than once, she’s reverted into that shell of hers that protected her from the anguish the world seemed insistent upon assaulting her with. On those occasions, I have to remind her that I made vows before our friends and family, before God and Rao alike, that I would willingly share her burdens, that she isn’t alone, and doesn’t have to be strong all the time. I remind her often about El Mayara. We are stronger together, and it pains me to think that she might be withdrawing again when we need each other most.

 

Tears gather in my eyes, and I do not bother to stop them from falling. I let them trickle down my cheek and fall down upon the portion of my thighs left uncovered by my comfy but only slightly immodest jean shorts. As I sniffle to clear my nose of snot, I subconsciously wipe at it with the sleeve of my fuzzy white v-neck pullover sweater. I realize my mistake only afterward.

 

“Oh well,” I sigh, speaking to no one in particular. “I’ll just wash it later.” I make a mental note to do just that, but the train of thought does not last long. All too soon, I’m remembering again that this will be the last night my daughter formally lives under the same roof as me. Everything is changing, and that makes me both incredibly sad yet unerringly grateful.

 

Thinking back on the eighteen years I’ve spent raising her, I realize how difficult it is to sum up what it means to be a mother or to qualify how much my daughter means to me.

 

There was a time I thought I’d never have children. For most of my life on earth, the only Kryptonian I was aware of besides myself was my cousin, Kal. Considering that Lois, my cousin’s wife, was unable to get pregnant naturally, it was assumed Kryptonians and humans were incompatible. As the last Kryptonians, our inability to procreate meant that our species would end with us. Thankfully this proved to be false. A few years after Alex and I married, Kal discovered an ancient Kryptonian ship buried deep within the Antarctic ice which contained technology Alex and Kal were able to modify to facilitate breeding between the two species.

 

Now, Krypton lives on not only in my own flesh and blood child but in Clark and Lois’ children as well. I wonder what my mother would have thought about the two remaining heirs of the Great House of El violating ancient Kryptonian Law by not only marrying outside of our species but by committing the abominable sin of harnessing Kryptonian technology to procreate with our human spouses – a decision that surely would have landed us both in the Phantom Zone had we done so on the world of our birth.

 

As a stickler for the rules, my mother surely would have disapproved in a respectful way until the moment she laid eyes on the squealing pink newborn swaddled tightly in pink blankets. I wish more than is considered healthy for that to have been possible. How smitten my proper yet sentimental mother would have been! One glimpse into the giant blue eyes of her grandchild would have done her in, just like it did me and Alex...and Eliza, and Hank, Winn, and James, Lucy, Barry, Oliver, Dinah and Sara.

 

There are times I miss my mother so much I feel emotionally transported back to my emergence from the pod that brought me to Earth. Crippling loneliness and despair tint the edges of my vision, and as awful as it is to experience those old hurts again, they seem almost welcoming because of their familiarity. But then I think of the family I have so painstakingly built here on earth, and all of the sudden the glaring absence of my mother is assuaged. Thoughts of her that once sent lances of pain tearing through my chest then bring a smile to my face because they have been intermingled with those of my wife and daughter. Remembering my parents is not so bittersweet anymore when viewed through the lens of happiness and fulfillment that has defined my life since Alex and I became a couple, and which was only enhanced upon the arrival of our daughter.

 

The day of our daughter’s birth is one of my most cherished memories. Alex had been prepared for labor with her typical military precision, complete with strategies for various scenarios when it hit. Thankfully, we were at home watching old episodes of _Fringe_ when she went into labor (coincidentally it was the second episode of season one where a woman was impregnated and gave birth on the same night to a child that grew old within minutes, which – needless to say – weirded both Alex and me out). Since we were at home, plan A was enacted, which involved Alex calling all of the important people to meet us at the hospital – talking through gritted teeth at that – while I got her to the car and then drove us to our destination. I was so worried about getting Alex to the hospital safely that I went a little slower than usual, much to Alex’s frustration. I heard a few words that evening I’d never before heard her use in anger.

 

Three hours after Alex was admitted our daughter was born, which allowed enough time for everyone we contacted to arrive. That the people closest to us were present to share in our joy only made the occasion that much more wonderful. Even Cat Grant had attended, a surprise to most but me. Cat doesn’t show her sentimental side much, but as someone who has worked closely with her for years, I know her to be quite the softy at opportune moments.

 

Still, when I invited my boss to the hospital, I’d expected her to politely turn me down and insist she’d visit later when the family had a chance to see the baby. Instead, she accepted immediately.

 

“An event so momentous as the birth of the first half-Kryptonian, half-human child? I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Kiera!” She’d said that last bit with a wink in reference to our inauspicious beginnings. True to her word, she was there in all of her put-together glory, pacing the waiting room like a caged tiger – or so Winn and James say. But in an uncharacteristic show of emotion, when Cat got to hold the baby she cooed endlessly over, “the most beautiful baby ever made aside from Carter.” I didn’t bother to correct her because: a) she’s Cat Grant, and a person corrects Cat Grant at their own peril, and b) I’ve seen Carter’s baby pictures and he was pretty damn adorable.

 

In any case, thinking back to that day always serves as a reminder as to how quickly time passes. It is still so vivid in my mind that it seems like just yesterday. And yet eighteen years have gone by. Eighteen years worth of love has been shared between two parents and the child they prize above all else.

 

Both Alex and I fully invested ourselves into our daughter, lavishing her with our time, attention, and affection. We did everything together, the three of us, from typical trips to amusement parts to attending countless Dodgers games – Alex keeps season tickets, one of her only selfish indulgences – to more mundane activities such as playing soccer in the backyard or board games at the kitchen table until well after dark on school nights just because we were having so much fun.

 

Of course, our daughter is a bit spoiled, doted on as she’s been by me or Alex in any infinite number of ways, and that is not to mention the preferential treatment she gets from her extended family of relatives (both genetic and informally adopted) and superheroes and multimedia moguls. Even so, she has turned out so much better than I could have hoped, so level-headed and thoughtful and loving and kind and funny. She is, in my opinion (and in Alex’s as well), perfect.

 

Now inspired, I press my pen to the page and begin to write, careful to form my letters elegantly in the way I’d been trained to by my aforementioned mentor and former boss, Cat Grant.

 

“The English language is the most beautiful on earth, Kiera _,_ ” she’d say when I got sloppy hand-writing a memo because I was harried for time. “Don’t defile it by blurring the letters together in your careless cursive script. A lower case ‘b’ is a ‘b’, not a developmentally stunted ‘l’. Show some respect.”

 

“Of course, Ms. Grant,” I’d demure, horrified at being chastised yet again. “A ‘b’ is a ‘b’. Got it. I’ll do better.” And of course I never did until she formally took me under her wing and painstakingly instructed me on how to be a journalist worthy of sharing a by-line with the likes of Lois Lane.

 

It is with that purposefulness that I write to my child, entitling the letter: “ _From Me To You My Little Sunbeam._ ” (Sunbeam is my pet name for our daughter, who vacillates between hating and loving it depending on if her friends are over or not. Alex adores it, though, so I generally ignore our daughter’s eye rolls and scoffs whenever she’s in one of her ‘I’m not a kid anymore, I hate pet names’ moods.)

 

“ _I was clinging tightly to James Olson’s arm,_ ” I write, “ _leaning heavily against his broad, sturdy frame when I first realized I was in love with your mother._

 

“ _It was in 2017. Back then I was a little bit insecure about myself, trapped between the airy, waifish persona I wore like a second skin to disguise my true self, the more confident and powerful Kryptonian refugee upon whom the world – or more specifically Cat Grant – bestowed the moniker: Supergirl. My insecurity wasn’t due to any self-doubt harbored about my abilities or my aptitude in any way; after all, by then Cat Grant, the infamous baroness of media and world renowned hard-ass boss, had even recognized my talents and become a secretive if not proud mentor to my budding career as a journalist. Rather, I was still finding balance within a world that sometimes seemed simultaneously too big and too small while also fumbling my way through being both a normal person and a superhero._

 

“ _It isn’t easy being the Girl of Steel. In the aftermath of the Myriad incident, National City quickly settled into a tentative acceptance of my presence. Although city officials supported me only in the most obliging of terms, most of the citizens only greeted me with open enthusiasm and praise. I can’t deny that I ate it up. It was nice to be recognized after a lifetime of hiding who I really was._

 

“ _But not everyone believed in me or supported me during that time. I had many detractors, among whom Maxwell Lord served as the most vocal. Being questioned endlessly by him for every decision I made and blamed for every loss of property or life on television and in the papers took its toll on my self-confidence. And Maxwell Lord was not alone in his suspicions of my intentions. The military and law enforcement establishments also freely criticized me on a daily basis._

 

“ _Among my closest friends and family, support wavered but never truly broke down. Mostly I think they just worried about me putting myself out there to be judged by the world as I risked my life to help save the city I have come to think of as home – above Krypton even. Myriad opened a lot of eyes to the dangers I face in my duties as Supergirl, and it was no surprise to me that many of my loved ones who were in the know encouraged me to dial things back for a while to let the aftershocks of the catastrophe blow over. They were scared for me, and I couldn’t blame them. I was pretty scared myself._

 

“ _Eliza, my foster mother, was particularly insistent about this. She pleaded with me to take care, referencing General Lane’s vehement hatred of me as illustrated by his continual crusade to shut me out of official channels. After what happened to your grandfather, I understood Eliza’s position and sympathized with it, knowing that she feared some sort of plot to remove me from the board as a potential threat to national security. I believed, however, that a withdrawal after so widely publicized an incident would send the wrong message. While Eliza and my friends accepted my decision to remain publicly active, it was grudgingly – I could tell by the disapproval in their eyes, the sets of their jaws, the worry in their furrowed brows._

 

“ _The only person who never, ever doubted me, not once in all the years we’ve been in each others lives is your mother._

 

“ _El Mayara. Stronger together. No one else understands that axiom the way your mother does, and no pair more epitomizes it than she and I. It’s what got us through the losses of our youth. It’s what joined us together, Kryptonian and human, into a family forged of unbreakable bonds. I could not have made it through the loss of my parents and my entire species had it not been for her, and she has told me before that I was what got her through her losing her father._

 

“ _Your mother is the light of my life. While you are my Sunbeam, she is my Sun. And although she would insist it to be more appropriate that I am hers, I vehemently disagree. Your Mom has always been the most important person in my life, and always will be, though now you occupy a position of equivalence with her, something of which no one else can boast. There hasn’t been a time during my life on earth that I haven’t needed her. There was a time, however, that I didn’t realize that needing had undergone a subtle chrysalis, morphing unbeknownst to me into something far more profound, something that would forever change both of our lives._

 

“ _Anyway, I was standing there at the party with my then-boyfriend, your uncle James (it’s weird, I know, I’m sorry!), looking over the crowd when I saw her – your mother that is – standing in a corner of the room. She was tucked against a window and looking out at the city below. The moon was filtering in through the glass plates, dancing upon the fabric of her dress and highlighting her sharply feminine features. The way it illuminated her in so pale and soft a light only magnified her already near flawless beauty._

 

“ _Your Mom has always been the prettiest girl in the world to me, but I remember that my breath caught in my throat as I stared at her that night. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. I drank in the picture being painted before me like a woman stranded in the desert who’d stumbled unwittingly upon a magical oasis only to find it wasn’t magical at all. Rather, it was real and tangible and it had always been there right in front of me only I had willfully blinded myself to it because I thought it a dream perpetually beyond my reach._

 

“ _I lost my blindness that night. Like Hank Williams so long ago, I saw the light. It was a glorious epiphany and an overwhelming sensation. It was salvation. It was enlightenment. It was freedom._

 

“ _As your mother tended to be a loner with few exceptions at that time, she was by herself at the party. There is a good reason she was that way. Since the day I came to live with the Danvers family, your mother’s life has not been her own._

 

“ _At first, she loathed me because of the divide I created in her parents’ attention. Being an only child had accustomed her to being doted upon. But there is something inside your mother – call it innate goodness or a noble spirit or whatever you wish – that supersedes everything else, and it drowned out the bitterness over countless nights of crawling into bed with a trembling teenage alien girl to comfort her as she wept for her dead family and obliterated planet. During those nights, and as per her own admission, loathing transformed into love._

 

“ _As I said, your mother stopped living her life for herself after that. She was only fourteen years old. It hurts me to think that I was the cause for her to grow up so fast, but at the same time, it fills me with endless wonder to consider how selfless her devotion for me was – is really, because that has not changed. Your mother gave her future away for me. She surrendered her dreams for me. She sacrificed her happiness for me time and again, all so I could live a normal life, so that I could fulfill my ambitions and chase after my dreams without the haunting specter looming over me belonging to some shadowy government agency hellbent on either capturing me or at worst destroying me. Your mother sold her life to the United States Government, not simply because she wanted to find out what happened to her father or because she is a natural protector and warrior or because the DEO wanted to keep her close to get to me; those things are certainly true, but the root beneath all of those superficial motivators for your mother to become a field agent was her singular drive to protect me._

 

“ _It’s funny, I am a Kryptonian, and like your uncle Clark am impervious to nearly all threats that human enemies pose. I am stronger than a hundred fully grown men, faster than the speed of sound, can see through walls and hear a whisper from a mile away if I’m applying myself. Bullets bounce off of me. And yet your mother has always shielded me from anything and everything that might harm me or threaten me, even as a teenager, because she knew that words, unlike bullets, do not bounce off. People hate and persecute what they do not understand, and I was a strange child in human terms. Without your mother to act as an intercessor with my teachers and an impenetrable buttress against those who would bully me, I might never have fully adapted to life on earth._

 

“ _I’m telling you all of this because in that moment as I gazed in adoration at the most perfect creature – aside from you, of course – to ever grace the earth, I realized that I would never love or need or want anyone else as much as I do your Mom. It is impossible for me. No one can compare to her. She is my favorite person and always will be. She is my heart and my soul. I was ostensibly sent to earth to be a guardian for my infant cousin, and in the process became Supergirl; but I firmly believe that my true destiny was always to find your Mom and to love her. It’s what I was born to do._

 

“ _As I ruminated over that revelation, it suddenly occurred to me that I could go on to marry James Olson and settle into a comfortable life and career that in retrospect would have fallen far short of the one I am blessed with now. I could have realized my youthful fantasy – fueled by the freedom of choice I had discovered in this world – to have a house full of rambunctious children we adopted together rather than choosing to stop at one as your Mom and I did due to the danger we put ourselves in on a daily basis. I could have had the husband and the kids and the house with the white picket fence and the perfect job and friends to celebrate all of this with. But even then, the husband and the kids and the house and the job and the friends would always be secondary in my heart to your Mom. Were my worst nightmare to happen and I was forced to choose between those real-yet-imaginary people, I realized my choice was already made. El Mayara will forever bind your Mom and I together above all other associations or relationships._

 

“ _It wasn’t long after my awakening that I scraped up the courage to confess how I felt to your Mom, and thanks be to Rao, she admitted to having secretly felt the same way for a very long time. But if I’d chosen differently, I would not have been as happy as I currently am. I would have merely been content. My Sunbeam, there is more in life than being content, and I want that something better for you, just as I came to crave it for myself that night._

 

“ _There is so much more to living that my people did not understand under the ultra-logical lens of bleeding edge advancement. On Krypton, happiness was subject to duty and emotion to rationality. A people whose sole objective was to conquer the knowledge of the universe had no need for such frivolous feelings. Love has no place in a society built around the concept of scientific superiority. I spent my formative years learning how to deny myself the companionship and affection I far too often hungered for, and for too long after I came to earth I allowed that mindset to hinder me from seeking the true desires of my heart. That reticence to break out of my Kryptonian shell cost me years with your mother that I can never get back. Please, my daughter, don’t make the same mistake!_

 

“ _It is my deepest wish for you that you cast aside the societal expectations assigned to you in order to experience the joys and pains that are a consequence of living out your big dreams through countless adventures. I beseech you to never settle for what is easy. The good things in life are hard to come by, but that’s only because they are worth fighting for. Don’t ever sell yourself short, my darling. You deserve the best that life can offer, and that includes finding a partner who will fulfill you in every way, just as your mother does for me. And I want that for you so very much, because nothing else will truly satisfy you._

 

“ _I didn’t really know what it meant to be alive until I allowed myself to acknowledge how I felt for your mother. For the longest time, I skated through life purposefully bereft of that dangerous emotion. Deep down, I always loved her, but there were barriers to consider such as our youth, and that we were both girls – foster sisters at that – and the obvious reason being that we were of different species. It was only in shucking off those imposed restraints that I found my life’s purpose. I realized my destiny, and the reward for that leap of faith was an epic romance that continues to this day, an all-encompassing passion that has burned brightly for more than two decades now, and the sublimely fulfilling discovery of what it means to become lost in another person and yet at the same time find yourself in them._

 

“ _Love is the greatest gift a person can receive or give, and I pray you to never take it for granted. The love your mother has given to me – the love you have given to me – is worth all of the wealth the universe can provide. I’ve told your mother this a million times, as I have you a thousand, that I would not trade either of you even for all of Krypton to be restored. Feeling this way gives me no pause whatsoever, where once it would have riddled me with guilt. And while being Supergirl is a source of great pride for me, as you well know, I would forever retire my cape and sigil for the pen and notepad belonging to an ordinary life as a reporter just to be a wife to your mother and to be your Mama._

 

“ _My Sunbeam, I desire the best for you in life, but you can’t have that without stepping outside of your comfort zone or without taking great risk to your heart. Sorrow is sure to find you, just as it did me and your mother at various times and in ways that shook us to our very foundations. This, however, is not unique to us. Everyone who journeys through this mortal coil is bound to suffer, but I promise you that the tears you shed will prove worthwhile for the laughter and the heartaches will pale in comparison to the happiness only true love affords. Reach for the stars, baby. They are your inheritance._

 

“ _Yet while you ascend ever higher, I also want to warn you to never lose sight of where you came from. I don’t speak so much in terms of genetics as of your mother and I. That is, remember what we taught you, how we love you, and the price that was paid to bring about the world you live in. It was not always so peaceful nor was it so accepting. Appreciate the sacrifices made by taking advantage of your opportunities at every turn. And do not forget that home is not a place, but a person:_ the _person to whom you will someday give your heart._

 

“ _For me, home is Alexandra Danvers, the woman you so lovingly refer to as Mom. She is my reason, something you will only understand once you find your special someone. I could not fly so high or so fast if I didn’t have her solid foundation to land upon. I would long be dead were it not for her; the scars she bares on her body are testament to that fact. Therein is a great truth, my love: a person is not worth giving yourself to if they are not willing to give themselves_ for _you. Your mother taught me that through her selfless actions, and I pray to Rao that it is a lesson you will be privileged to someday learn when you find someone willing to lay everything down for you._

 

“ _Sunbeam, you are now eighteen years old. You are no longer a child or a teenager, but a woman in your own right, and as such your life is no longer under the authority of your mother and me. It is time, then, for you to make decisions on your own and to take responsibility for them. It’s going to be hard sometimes, harder than you can imagine, and you are most certainly going to make mistakes. Rao knows I did. But I believe with everything I am that you are ready for whatever life has in store for you – after all, thanks to the wonders of Kryptonian tech, you are half me and half Mom, and the best halves of us both at that._

 

“ _With that in mind, be yourself because you are so much more than good enough. Cling to your convictions with an iron grip; don’t ever compromise simply to make someone else happy. When faced with trying situations, make decisions that you cannot merely live with but can ultimately be proud of. Work hard and love harder, for you will honor your family by doing these things. Be a good friend who is ready to listen when someone needs to talk and talk when that person needs to hear a friendly voice._

 

“ _I know that you’ll graduate and go on to be an incredible asset to whatever community you decide to call your own. Just remember what you’ve learned from Mom and me, that while most of the people in this world are good, a few bad ones will always conspire to take away the happiness and safety of others. I therefore implore you my daughter to continue the family legacy of protecting not only the sanctity of human life, but the planet that gave an orphaned alien girl sanctuary when she needed it most and which nurtured life over eons to eventually produce so peerless an example of humanity as your mother. Krypton died because we, its inhabitants, wasted it. In bettering ourselves at any cost, we lost our respect for the planet that gave us life. The Earth is precious and irreplaceable, and so are people for that matter: cherish them both._

 

“ _Never, ever, ever abuse your powers. They are your gift. Use them to make the world a better place, which is one of many reasons I insisted your middle name be Alexandria after your Mom. It means “protector.”_

 

“ _Most of all, my heart, be happy. Smile, laugh, and make jokes. Find the humor in every day situations. Don’t let the bad things that happen weigh you down. Instead, lift them up on your shoulders so that in bearing them you are perpetually being strengthened. Happiness is a choice: make it every...single...day._

 

“ _And no matter what, Sunbeam, never forget that I love you. Your mother’s brief but excruciating labor aside, the day you were born is the happiest of my life in accompaniment with the day Mom and I got married. You have given me so much joy that it would literally be impossible to adequately express it either in word or deed or song. You changed my life forever for the better._

 

“ _I want you to know that dirty diapers and midnight feedings were never a chore for me (or for your Mom, no matter how much she holds them over your head as leverage), as some of the most serene moments of my life came as I rocked you back to sleep after feeding you, singing songs to you that I learned from my own mother and remembering her for you and in you. I still remember how awesome it was to witness your first smile, first laugh, first steps, and first word (it was Hank, by the way, a fact your adoptive grandfather has preened over incessantly and excessively over the years). Watching you grow and blossom into the beautiful, kind, and brave young woman you are has been a constant source of gratification for me._

 

“ _Please know that no matter where you are, you live in my heart, and you will always have a home with me and Mom. And while I know you’ll worry about both of us after you leave, try not to. I promise we’ll be fine. You were born out of our love for each other, and that love will sustain us through the separation to come. Sure, we will both miss you like crazy, but even more than that, we really are happy for you. Truly, we are. So go live out your dreams with the security of knowing that Mom and I will continue to live out ours. (I won’t mention that there will be much more kissing going on around the house because I know that will just mortify you as it does whenever you catch us sneaking one in the kitchen. Oh, wait. Is that a blush I see? <insert your favorite cheeky and/or smug emoji here>)_

 

“ _In closing, you are my greatest accomplishment, Eleanora, and I love you and am so very proud of you!_

 

“ _Lovingly and eternally yours, from your Mama, Kara Zor-El Danvers – and I will always be your Mama. Always. El Mayara._

 

“ _P.S. Remember, Mom and I are only a phone call or text message away should you need us, and we can visit any time. While I may not can fly as fast as I used to, I can still hit speeds that could make an astronaut go green with envy. Love you, Sunbeam!_ ”

 

After taking a fortifying breath, I sit up straight and peruse the letter. “That’ll do,” I say to myself, proud of my eloquence considering how difficult it was for me to motivate myself to do this.

 

I’d wanted something for Ellie to take with her, and I’m glad that this is my parting gift rather than something typical like a new phone pre-programmed with her parents’ numbers. The letter is something personal, it’s a part of me put into words meant to anchor her in the brave new world she’s about to enter. It’s something she can pull out and read late at night when she’s feeling lonely or sad or is just missing home, and I know she will because she’s my daughter and I made it a point to emphasize how important home is. I hope it brings her comfort. I hope it keeps her grounded. I hope it makes her feel as loved as she really is.

 

A moment later I hear the door open downstairs, followed by Alex’s voice as she gently chastises our daughter.

 

“I told you not to wait ‘til the last minute, El,” she says, and I smile at the sound of her amused exasperation. I can almost hear Ellie roll her eyes as she playfully scoffs, and can see it very clearly in my mind’s eye. It’s been a regular expression since she hit puberty.

 

“Like it was gonna be any other way,” Ellie replies with good humor. “I’m half Mama, remember?”

 

Alex chuckles at that, and I can hear them passing through the entryway into the living room as they trade quips. “As if I could forget.  Always fashionably late. And h ave you seen the grocery bill  these days ?  Your appetite officially rivals your mother’s  now .  I should have invested in a  franchise for all you two eat.”

 

“I’m a growing girl, Mom,” Ellie explains, not at all offended by the mention of her healthy appetite. “Both Mama and Uncle Clark say I’m perfectly normal developmentally.”

 

“Yes, but the employees at the store don’t know that,” Alex counters. “I have to change up where I shop every year because they start to look at me funny. ‘Oh, there’s that crazy lady who buys half of the inventory on a monthly basis! I wonder if she’s a hoarder or a prepper or some kind of psycho who locks people up in her basement or something.’”

 

“They don’t say any of that! Don’t be such a drama queen.” Ellie is laughing as she says this.

 

“Well, they might not say it, but they’re certainly thinking it.”

 

“You can’t know that. In fact, I’ll bet you a twenty that they’re not. They’re probably salivating at the chance to get you at their register just to pad their sales figures for the month. You’re their monthly chance at a good Christmas bonus. That makes you the lotto for grocery store employees, Mom.”

 

They share a laugh at the joke and I join in from upstairs. As they continue conversing about what Ellie needs to pack before tomorrow, I return my gaze to the letter. Reaching for it, I take it into my hands and peruse the words once again. For the second time, they satisfy me, so I carefully fold the letter and then place it into an envelope, then I seal the envelope and inscribe Ellie’s name on it. Once that’s done, I place it in the drawer in which Alex keeps her gun locked and then re-arm the security features when I’m done. I’ll retrieve it tomorrow after her lunchtime birthday party.

 

By the time I straighten back up, Alex and Ellie are in the kitchen discussing our last meal as a family. Ellie requests her favorite, homemade Chicago-style deep dish pizza, to which Alex readily agrees. My stomach rumbles at the mention of food. Especially pizza. I love pizza.

 

Before meandering downstairs, I take a fortifying breath. I know it’s the last time I’ve heard my family talk about dinner but am unwilling to cry again. I need to be strong for Ellie in order to make certain her last night at home is not marred by my sadness. Her night needs to be a good one, and it will be because we’re all together. Our unorthodox but perfect little family.

 

Back straight, determination written in my features, I square my shoulders and march out of the study. By the time I hit the hallway, I’m my usual bouncy, effervescent, Sunny Danvers self. I make my way  to where my family awaits,  and upon spotting them,  greet my wife and daughter with equally enthusiastic  and appropriate kisses.  I then inquire about their days  as per usual .

 

My smile doesn’t leave my face for the rest of the night. It is a hundred percent genuine. With my Sun and my little Sunbeam to shine their light upon me, there is no need to feign my happiness. After a wonderful meal in which both myself and my daughter stuffed ourselves in a completely unrepentant fashion, we all sit around the table to talk. We even break out our well-worn set of cards and play Rummy for a while. It seems like seconds pass as we joke and laugh when in fact it is hours. 

 

Just as I believed it would be, tonight is perfect. Tomorrow, however, will be a different story.

 

As I curl up in bed behind a very tense Alex later on that night, I try not to think about saying my last goodbyes to Ellie after we’ve moved her three thousand miles away. Instead, I distract myself and Alex by relating memories of us together as a family beginning with our outings to various aquariums and zoos and how Alex would regale us with obscure but interesting information about the things on display, whether alive or inanimate. Her ability to convey information in a relatable but fun way often attracted other families to follow us around just to hear her colorful stories. I also deliberately recount the time Ellie got lost playing in the woods with her cousins but had the presence of mind to not wander about and risk taking herself even further away from home. I found her an hour later sitting calmly upon the wide branch of a tree. 

 

“What took you so long, Mama?” she’d asked, head tilted and eyes twinkling with mischief.

 

“Do you think she’ll use that kind of wisdom?” Alex asks after I finish telling the story. “She’ll be all alone there and so far away from us.”

 

Hearing the worry in her voice, I snuggle up closer so that my front is nearly nestled against her back. After wrapping one arm around her waist, I tug her even tighter against me, bringing us flush from head to toe, and then press a kiss against the junction of her neck and shoulder. She sighs in contentment at the comforting gesture.

 

“I know she will,” I then answer audibly, following up my confident response with a series of kisses along the aesthetically becoming line of my wife’s jaw. I don’t stop until I reach the corner of her lips, and by the time I do, Alex tilts her head up. Our lips meet in a kiss that is both sweet and erotic, the kind that can only be shared by a couple who have been together for so long. When we separate, I smile, feeling so many variants of adoration for her that I couldn’t possibly put a name to them all. “Our daughter is mature beyond her years, and well able to take care of herself,” I tell Alex, brushing a finger from her temple to her neck and then back up to drift into her silky hair. “She’s so much like you in that way.”

 

Alex hums, smiling back at me, much more relaxed than she was moments ago.  She maneuvers onto her back so that she is half beneath me then says,  “But adventurous like you. And infuriatingly positive.”

 

I beam down at her. “They don’t call me Sunny Danvers for nothin’!”

 

Alex’s smile softens as she gazes back. “No they don’t. You are the sunshine for so many people, Kara, not just me and Ellie. I’m glad she took after you in that way.”

 

The compliment deserves another kiss, so I reward my wife accordingly. Alex hums into the kiss this time, breathing in through her nose as it deepens. We fall into each other for a while, content to kiss under the moonlight, lost in our love for one another as minutes pass by unheeded. The connection Alex and I have has always been profound, but over time it has grown, spread its roots downward and outward until it has become essential to sustaining and nourishing us both. That we are so intrinsically linked is one of the reasons I know I will make it through our daughter leaving home.  As long as Alex is with me, I can make it through anything.

 

The lazy but incredibly satisfied grin Alex gives me after our lengthy kissing session strokes my ego quite a bit. “Liked that, did you?” I tease.

 

“Mmhmm,” she nods, eyes slightly hooded. “But don’t think I’m ignorant of what you’re trying to accomplish.”  


I arch a brow at her. “Oh? What’s that?”

 

“Trying to distract me,” she says, not sounding at all upset. If anything she is amused, which is a relief.

 

“Seems to be working,” I note with a hint of pride.

 

“It is,” she agrees, expression openly serene. It turns quickly, though, into one of shame. “I’ve been a terror these past few weeks about Ellie. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” I soothe, rubbing her arm left bare in her tank top. “I get it. You’ve always been the worrier of the family. I expected it would hit you the hardest.”

 

Alex chuckles at that. She threads her fingers through the hair at my temples and I lean into the touch. My appreciation for those talented fingers has only grown over the years. “Guilty as charged, I guess,” she says. “Still, I don’t want you to think I’m not concerned for you, too. She’s just as much your daughter as mine.”

 

“She is,” I acknowledge, “and while I love you for the way you care about me, I promise you that I am working through this in a healthy way. Besides, Ellie is not going so far away that we can’t reach her within an hour, and if I know her, she’ll be calling every night just to hear our voices, even if it’s just because we’ll be missing her. She’s a good kid that way.”

 

The explanation seems to please Alex, who sighs and pulls me down into her embrace. “She really is a good kid,” she says as she guides my head down to rest upon the swell of her breast. The sound of her heartbeat fills my ears, so familiar and steady and  awe-inspiring that I clench my eyes shut, savor ing the way her voice washes over me in soothing waves and simultaneously vibrates into my skin. “ As much as it pains me that she’s moving so far away, I trust her. She’s earned it, I think.” I agree with a nod and can feel Alex smile against the crown of my head. After a peaceful pause, she speaks once more. “We did good, didn’t we?” 

 

“Yeah,” I agree, smiling as a million images of Ellie flash through my mind. “We did good.”

 

Another silence ensues during which I lie still, soaking in the comfort of my wife’s embrace. To me, home is right here in her arms. There is no place in the galaxy I would rather be.

 

This is what I hope and pray for Ellie to find, as I expressed in my letter. Somewhere out there is her other half, the one person who completes her and anchors her during the storms of life, a special individual who can serve as a tether of security that affords her the freedom to fly as high and fast as she is able because her someone – her home – is always there to ground her when she starts to drift away. It would be a tragedy, in my opinion, for her to miss so vital a connection to another person, whether it be in the name of the greater good or progress or independence.

 

Finding fulfillment in and of oneself is a noble pursuit, and for a time I thought that’s what I wanted. Once I believed my destiny was to live present among humanity but separate from them in order to better protect both them and my young cousin with whom I was charged. Sharing a home with Alex changed that perception.

 

In growing close to her, I was awakened to a secret need for companionship, and not just with anyone who caught my fancy, but with her in particular. I discovered that I need her above all and everyone else, and that while needing someone that way is scary, it is also intensely rewarding when that need is reciprocated. There is great merit in personal strength, but no one person can overcome the couple who are united in devotion by an abiding, unconditional love.

 

“I love you, Kara,” Alex finally says as if she is privy to my thoughts, breaking the silence with an earnestness that warms me from head to toe. I curl in as close to her as I can, tangling our legs together as I reach for her hand to interlace our fingers.

 

“I love you, too,” I reply, voice a little choked with emotion. “So much.” And I do. So, so much.

 

My family is my whole world. Nothing in all of the universe compares to them. How lucky am I, then, an alien from a dead world across the vast expanse of the galaxy, to have been guided to this remarkably brave and selfless woman who loves me like no other and puts up with my silliness on a daily basis, and to then have been blessed with a daughter who epitomizes all of the goodness in the world? It is beyond my comprehension; yet it is my life. The best life. A perfect life. The kind of life I couldn’t have conceived of in my most fanciful and fantastic dreams.

 

My reality is so much better than any fantasy, and it is with that wonderful thought that I finally fall asleep with a smile on my face.

 

As I slumber, I dream of Alex and I walking in the park, each of us holding a hand belonging to the little angel with chestnut curls who is swinging happily between us while singing at the top of her lungs. Accompanying her sweetly innocent song is the sound of children laughing and of dogs barking merrily. Life echoes all around me, and the fresh scent of summer is in the air.

 

When I look over to Alex, I take in the surreal sight of her under the afternoon sun. Her hair is gently fluttering in the wind as she smiles until her eyes gleam with a profound joy the like of which I have never seen before. Happiness fills my breast.

 

When I wake up, I’m still smiling. As long as I have Alex and Ellie, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. So this happened. This is my first foray into this fandom and I've not written in first person before, so this was a bit of an experiment. I hope it wasn't unreadable, either for the saccharine sweetness or the format. In any case, it turned out okay I think. Let me know if didn't, I suppose. Just don't be mean about it. ;)
> 
> Also, as a bit of extra insight, I like to imagine that when Ellie graduated summa cum laude from college, she used portions of Kara's letter as her speech. I think that's just too wonderful to not be the case.
> 
> I may write some more Kalex in the future. We'll see. Right now I have some big OUaT projects to finish up, but I may get distracted. I've been reading a lot of Kalex of late. Anyway, later, y'all!


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